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University  of  Illinois  Library 

BEC  IS 

m 

 fC  :  

L161— H41 

SHETLAND 
PONIES 

AND 

W.V  OTHER 

STORIES 


flUustrateO 


Ube  Merner  Company 

NEW  YORK  AKRON,  OHIO  CHICAGO 

1899 


Copyright,  1899, 

BY 

THE  WERNER  COMPANY 


I 


SHETLAND  PONIES. 


SHETLAND  PONIES. 


FAR  north  from  Scotland,  and  but  seldom  visited 
by  southern  travelers  are  the  Shetland  Islands. 
From  these  rock-bound,  treeless  islands  come  the 
Shetland  ponies  that  we  so  often  see  at  the  circus, 
or  pulling  little  phaetons  patiently  along.  A.Shet- 
land pony  is  almost  a  child's  first  desire,  unless,  per- 
haps, it  may  be  to  own  a  monkey.  To  have  a  pony 
to  ride,  or  to  drive,  and  especially  a  real  Shetland, 
long-haired,  short-legged  pony  is  a  dream  of  perfect 
happiness,  indeed. 

But  have  the  readers  of  this  little  sketch  ever 
thought  about  the  home  of  these  ponies  ?    If  you 


Shetland  Ponies. 


never  have,  then  take  a  map  of  the  British  Isles,  and 
in  the  far  North  you  will  see  the  small  group  of 
islands  called  the  Shetlands,  and  from  there  the  first 
ponies  came;  and  to-day  they  are  raised  there  in 
great  numbers. 


Shetland  is  a  very  different  country  than  many 
see.  There  are  no  green  fields  and  trees,  and  the 
children  living  there  hardly  believe  it  when  you  tell 
them  that  in  England  or  Scotland  there  are  green 
lanes,  and  that  birds  build  nests  among  green  leaves. 
All  the  birds  they  see,  hover  about  the  great,  rocky 


Shetland  Ponies. 


cliffs,  and  build  nests  in  the  crevices  of  rocks,  per- 
haps a  thousand  feet  above  the  sea.  All  their  fields 
are  covered  with  black  peat  or  brown  heather ;  and 
instead  of  houses  of  wood  to  live  in,  they  only  have 
huts  made  of  stone  with  a  roof  of  straw,  mud  and 
refuse  wood.  In  some  of  the  houses  there  are  no 
windows,  only  one  room,  and  a  low  door.  Then  there 
is  no  chimney  to  let  the  smoke  out,  but  only  a  small 
hole  in  the  roof.  Of  course  these  huts  are  for  the 
very  poor  people  living  out  among  the  hills  of  Shet- 
land, and  away  from  the  coast.  But  near  the  sea,  on 
the  shores  of  some  secluded  bay,  are  quite  good 
towns,  such  as  Lerwick  and  Scolloway.  These  towns 
have  little  stone  houses  with  very  pointed  roofs  and 
deep-set  windows,  that  almost  seem  to  rest  in  the 
water  itself,  they  are  built  so  near  it.  Then  the 
streets  are  very  narrow,  and  have  been  paved  with 
great  stones.  You  can  almost  touch  either  side  of 
the  street  it  is  so  narrow. 

Now  the  people  of  the  Shetland  Islands  are  very 
quiet,  orderly  and  industrious.  They  live  by  many 
means.  Some  of  them  have  shops  in  the  towns, 
where  they  sell  groceries,  and  dress-goods  and  cured 
meats.  Others  live  by  catching  fish  to  send  south. 
Some  let  themselves  down  by  ropes  over  the  edge  of 
a  great  high  cliff,  and  gather  the  eggs  of  birds.  Then 


Shetland  Ponies. 


the  women  knit  shawls  and  hoods  and  veils  and 
socks,  and  so  gain  a  few  pennies  to  buy  food 
with.  But  there  is  yet  another  class  of  people 
who  have  to  make  a  living,  and  this  class  raise  ponies 
and  sheep,  to  send  to  England  and  even  to  America. 
And  before  we  speak  or  describe  carefully  the  making 
of  shawls  and  gathering  of  eggs,  we  will  imagine  our- 
selves in  the  town  of  Lerwick  and  all  ready  for  a 
start  to  Noss  Island,  where  a  man  lives  who  has  a  large 
herd  of  real  Shetland  ponies. 

I  remember  the  morning  perfectly.  The  bay 
was  all  dotted  with  the  white  sails  of  the  fishing, 
boats.  The  town  was  all  awake  carrying  dried  fish 
to  the  boats  at  anchor,  and  on  the  corners  of  the 
streets  were  gathered  women  and  young  girls  selling 
potatoes  they  had  just  brought  in  from  the  distant 
field.  We  took  a  row  boat,  and  rowed  across  Bressay 
Sound  to  Bressay  Island,  and  then  walking  across  it, 
and  after  looking  back  at  the  town  and  out  at  sea,  we 
came  to  a  small  strait,  and  had  to  hire  another  boat 
to  take  us  across  the  water  to  Noss  Island.  This 
island  is  not  very  large,  but  has  more  green  grass  than 
any  other  of  the  Shetland  group.  One  end  of  it  al- 
most buries  itself  in  the  sea,  and  then  it  gradually 
rises  higher  and  higher,  until  the  opposite  end  rises  a 
thousand  feet  right  up  from  the  sea.    There  is  only 


Shetland  Ponies. 


one  house  on  the  island,  and  in  that  lives  the  keeper 
of  the  ponies  and  his  two  children.  I  wish  you  could 
have  seen  these  children  when  they  saw  us  coming 
in  the  boat.  They  hardly  ever  leave  the  island 
themselves,  and  so  when  any  strangers  come  to  see 
their  ponies,  how  happy  it  makes  them  !  They  were 
very  pretty  and  bright  children,  too.  They  had  light 
hair  and  bright  blue  eyes,  and  cheeks  as  red  as  roses. 
Running  down  with  them,  was  their  pet  dog,  who 
seemed  just  as  glad  as  any  of  the  rest  to  see  strangers. 
The  house  the  man  lived  in  was  very  lonely-looking 
to  us.  It  was  built  of  stone,  and  then  painted  white, 
and  stood  on  a  little  knoll  overlooking  the  blue 
waters  of  the  cold  North  Sea. 

After  a  short  rest  we  walked  out  to  explore  the 
island  arid  see  the  ponies.  Here  was  their  home 
and  we  should  see  them  here  in  their  real  life.  As 
we  walked  along,  we  came  to  a  part  of  the  island 
where  it  was  rather  sandy,  and  there  found  such  a 
nest  of  rabbits.  We  almost  stumbled  into  their 
holes,  there  were  so  many  of  them  when  we  came 
upon  them.  There  must  have  been  fully  a  hundred 
nibbling  the  short  grass,  or  standing  up  to  see  who 
was  coming  to  disturb  them.  The  keeper  said  they 
were  a  great  nuisance  to  the  island,  they  undermined 
it  so. 


Shetland  Ponies. 


But  a  sight  that  interested  us  more  than  that  of  the 
rabbits  was  the  great  herd  of  ponies  we  saw  before 
us. 

There  must  have  been  fully  two  hundred  of  the 
shaggy-maned  little  fellows.  Some  were  eating,  some 
biting  one  another,  some  running  as  though  having  a 
race,  and  others  stood  still  looking  at  Us.  When  we 
came  nearer  the  whole  herd  pricked  up  their  ears, 
gave  little  snorts  of  anger,  and  galloped  away  as  fast 
as  their  short  legs  could  carry  them. 

The  keeper  told  us  that  when  one  wishes  a  pony, 
to  ride  or  sell,  he  must  take  the  one  he  keeps  near 
his  house,  mount  him,  and  then  riding  out  to  the 
herd,  lassoo  one  at  a  time  until  you  obtain  all 
you  wish.  In  winter  the  ponies  of  Noss  Island  have 
rather  a  hard  time  of  it.  Though  there  is  not  much 
snow  on  the  island,  still  the  winds  often  blow  very 
fiercely,  and  poor  pony  has  no  warm  barn  to  go  to. 
Sometimes  the  keeper  builds  a  wall  about  a  square 
piece  of  ground,  and  pony  can  go  into  the  enclosure 
and  so  be  somewhat  sheltered.  But  usually  he  must 
face  the  wind  and  storm,  no  matter  what  the  weather. 

Among  the  ponies  we  saw  on  our  visit,  were  some 
little  wee  fellows,  hardly  larger  than  Newfoundland 
dogs.  When  we  saw  them  scampering  about  so  free 
from  care,  we  couldn't  help  wondering  how  long  it 


Shetland  Ponies \ 


would  be  before  they  would  be  carrying  some  little 
lady  up  and  down  Rotten  Row,  or  about  New  York 
Central  Park.  The  case  is  not  unlikely,  for  a  great 
many  of  them  each  year  are  sent  away  from  their 
island  home  to  England. 

But  a  pony  in  the  Shetland  Islands,  even,  has  often 
hard  work  to  perform.  If  a  poor  person  is  possessed 
of  a  pony,  then,  indeed,  he  feels  rich.  Now  on 
certain  days  in  the  week,  there  are  market  days  at 
Lerwick.  From  all  about  come  the  people  bringing 
things  to  sell.  Some  walk  to  the  town,  some  sail,  and 
others  come  riding  on  their  ponies.  Just  inside  of 
Lerwick  is  a  narrow  path  leading  over  the  hills.  I 
have  often  seen,  coming  along  this  narrow  way,  a  long 
line  of  ponies  and  women.  And  such  a  curious  ap- 
pearance they  present !  The  ponies  seem  only  legs. 
They  have  no  bridle,  only  a  cord  about  the  neck,  and 
each  follows  the  one  in  front.  You  can't  make  them 
go  at  the  side  of  one  another.  On  either  side  of  each 
one  are  two  immense  saddle-bags  rilled  with  peat,  or 
potatoes ;  on  his  back  are  piled  other  goods,  and 
even  his  neck  has  a  cloth  or  other  saddle-bags 
strapped,  so  that  seen  from  a  short  distance  it  seems 
just  as  though  the  bags  had  legs,  and  poor  pony 
seems  buried  out  of  sight.  Sometimes,  too,  if  there 
is  room  to  keep  seated,  his  mistress,  with  shoeless 


Shetland  Ponies. 


feet,  and  short  dress  and  white  cap,  seats  herself  in 
great  state,  and  away  goes  pony,  bags  and  woman,  off 
to  Lerwick.  Sometimes,  when  on  these  pilgrimages, 
pony  will  watch  his  chance,  and  if  his  mistress  should 
be  absent,  will  dart  away  down  the  steep  hill-side,  to 
nibble  a  bite  of  something  good  he  has  seen  •  and 
then  when  the  mistess  sees  him  such  a  pounding  as 
pony  gets  as  she  leads  him  back  to  his  proper  place ! 
But  he  only  looks  meek  and  will  no  doubt  do  the 
same  thing  again  when  he  gets  the  chance. 

Shetland  ponies  are  very  sure-footed.  They  will 
walk  along  the  very  edge  of  a  high  cliff,  and  before 
putting  a  foot  down  will  carefully  feel  if  the  ground 
is  firm  or  not.  Some  of  them  are  driven  by  their 
riders  down  steep  passes  where  one  misstep  would 
send  both  rider  and  pony  down  to  the  depths  below. 
Ponies  of  Shetland,  too,  are  not  always  very  well  be- 
haved. Near  our  cottage  was  an  old  lady's  gar- 
den, filled  with  cabbages.  One  day  her  pony  walked 
into  it,  and  enjoyed  himself  feasting  on  tta  forbidden 
fruit.  We  never  asked  him,  but  should  imagine  the 
beating  he  received  when  discovered  would  help  him 
to  digest  his  stolen  dinner.  Then  a  Shetland  pony  on 
his  native  heath  is  extremely  wilful.  If  they  dislike 
a  rider  they  will  spare  no  pains  to  unseat  him.  I  rode 
one  once  who  expended  a  great  deal  of  unnecessary 


Shetland  Ponies. 


strength  in  this  manner.  He  would  sit  down  sud- 
denly and  rise  up  more  so.  He  would  bite,  shake 
himself  and  roll  over,  if  allowed.  As  he  was  almost 
small  enough  to  be  carried  by  his  rider,  these  antics 
were  more  amusing  than  dangerous. 

And  so  the  ponies  of  the  Shetland  Islands  live  and 
wait  for  masters  in  the  South.  In  the  cold  winter  of 
fog  and  rain,  when  there  is  almost  no  day,  or  in  the 
summer  time,  when  the  sun  does  not  set,  they  run 
wild  about  the  Noss,  take  burdens  to  Lerwick,  or 
rarry  the  stranger  ovc  r  the  bogs  and  dreary  hills. 

8 


4 1 


MR.  SWEET  POTATOES. 


1 


/^\UR  milkman  has  a  very  odd  name,  — translated  | 
Vp/  into  English  it  is  "  Sweet  Potatoes."  His  Chi- 1 
nese  neighbors  call  him  "Old  Father  Sweet  Pota-  I 
toes." 

Some  persons  think  him  a  good  man ;  others  say  | 
that  he  is  a  very  bad  one;  Just  how  that  is  I  do  not  j 
know  —  his  business  brings  him  great  temptation. 

He  is  accused  of  putting  water  into  the  milk.  He 
himself  says,  that  he  only  does  it  when  he  has  not 
enough  milk  to  supply  all  his  customers ;  then  he 
does  not  know  what  else  he  can  do.  When  we  en- 
gaged him  to  bring  milk  to  us  we  took  him  into  our 
yard  and  showed  him  that  we  had  a  well  of  our  own. 

The  Chinese  in  their  own  country  do  not  make  any 
use  01  milk  or  butter.  They  have  a  perfect  horror  of 
cheese,  and  in  this  part  of  China,  perhaps,  not  more 


Mr.  Sweet  Potatoes. 


than  one  man  in  a  hundred  will  taste  of  beef.  Only 
a  few  cows  and  bullocks  are  kept,  and  these  are 
needed  to  plough  the  fields  and  turn  the  rude  ma- 
chinery of  the  sugar  mills. 

I  suppose  "  Father  Sweet  Potatoes "  had  never 
thought  of  such  a  thing  as  owning  a  cow,  until  for- 
eign ships  began  to  come  to  his  part  of  the  country. 
Of  course  the  ships  brought  foreign  men  and  women, 
and  these  all  wanted  beef  to  eat  —  sometimes  the 
Chinese,  wishing  to  speak  contemptuously  of  them, 
would  call  them  "  beef-eating  foreigners,"  —  and  they 
also  wanted  milk  for  their  cooking  and  for  their  chil- 
dren. 

So  Mr.  Sweet  Potatoes  bought  some  cows,  hoping 
to  make  some  money  in  the  milk  business.  They  all 
had  long  ropes  laced  about  their  horns  or  threaded 
through  their  noses,  and  he  got  some  little  children 
to  hold  the  ropes  and  guide  the  cows  in  search  of 
food  ;  for  there  are  no  grass  fields  in  this  part  of  the 
country,  and  all  the  pastures  the  cows  have  are  the 
little  green  places  on  the  rocky  hills  and  the  grassy 
patches  along  the  brooks  ;  and  the  children  sit  by 
and  watch  them  while  they  graze,  for  there  are  no 
fences,  and,  left  to  themselves,  the  cows  might  stray 
into  the  rice  fields  or  wander  away  into  places  where 
they  would  be  stolen. 


Mr.  Sweet  Potatoes. 


Strange  to  say,  we  have  our  best  milk  when  the 
winter  has  almost  killed  the  grass,  or  when  the 
weather  is  too  stormy  for  the  cows  to  go  out ;  for 
then  they  are  fed  with  the  tops  of  pea-nut  plants, 


THE   NATIVE  HUMPBACK  COW. 


either  green,  or  dried  like  hay,  and  up  for  sale  in 
great  bundles.  This  is  delicious  food  for  the  cows, 
and  when  they  have  it  then  we  have  good  milk  in- 
deed, with  a  thick,  white  cream  upon  it. 

Sometimes  they  have  cut  grass  to  eat,  which  has 


Mr.  Sweet  Potatoes. 


been  brought  from  steep  places  on  the  hills  to  which 
the  cows  cannot  go.  Very  poor  boys  go  out  with 
baskets  and  knives  to  gather  this  grass,  and  are  paid 
only  three  or  four  cents  for  the  work  of  a  day. 

Mr.  Sweet  Potatoes  has  two  kinds  of  cows.  Some 
of  them  are  the  native  humpback  cows,  of  very  small 
size,  very  gentle;  sometimes  red  and  sometimes 
brown,  with  hair  that  is  smooth  and  glossy  quite 
down  to  the  tiny  little  hoofs,  which  look  far  smaller 
and  cleaner  than  do  the  feet  of  cows  in  colder  cli- 
mates where  they  walk  out  in  snow  and  stand  in 
frosty  barns. 

These  cows  have  very  small  horns,  sometimes 
three  or  four  inches  long,  but  often  mere  little  white 
buds  coming  out  from  their  dark  foreheads.  Back  of 
their  shoulders  they  have  a  small  hump,  three  or  four 
inches  high.  And,  almost  always,  Sweet  Potatoes' 
cows  have  with  them  a  pretty,  little,  sprightly  calf ; 
for  the  Chinese  believe,  or  pretend  to  believe,  that  if 
the  calf  were  taken  away  the  cow  would  die,  and  that 
it  is  necessary  before  milking  her  to  first  let  the  calf 
have  a  few  mouthfuls  of  milk,  —  poor  little  calf ! 

The  other  cows  are  very  different  from  these  ;  they 
are  water  buffaloes,  —  buffaloes  not  at  all  like  the 
shaggy  bison,  but  great,  awkward  creatures,  that  in 
summer  like  to  wade  into  pools,  and,  safe  from  flies 


Mr.  Sweet  Potatoes. 


and  mosquitos,  to  stand  with  only  their  horns  and 
upturned  faces  in  sight  above  the  top  of  the  water; 
or,  when  there  are  no  pools,  to  wander  into  bogs  and 
half  bury  themselves  in  the  mud.  They  are  as  large 
as  a  big  ox,  with  very  round  bodies  mounted  on  very 
slim  legs  that  have  very  large  knee  and  ankle  joints. 
They  are  of  the  color  of  a  mouse,  or  a  gray  pig,  and 
coarse  hairs  grow  thinly  over  their  skin,  while,  in 
contrast  to  the  humpback-cows,  they  have  two  im- 
mense, crescent-shaped  horns  setting  up  from  their 
heads,  and  measuring  of  ten  a  yard  from  side  to  side. 

Old  Father  Sweet  Potatoes  sells  ten  pint-bottles 
full  for  a  silver  dollar,  —  that  is  ten  cents  a  pint, — 
and  in  summer  he  brings  us  a  half-pint  in  the  morn- 
ing and  another  half-pint  in  the  afternoon ;  for  the 
weather  is  so  hot  that  the  milk  of  the  morning  will 
not  remain  sweet  until  evening,  although  the  moment 
it  is  brought  to  the  house  it  is  boiled  and  then  put  in 
the  coolest  place  we  have,  which  is  not  a  cellar,  for 
cellars  cannot  be  kept  sweet  and  airy  in  countries 
where  there  is  so  much  moisture  and  many  insects. 

When,  in  our  walks,  we  meet  these  cows  they  often 
exhibit  fear,  especially  of  foreign  ladies  and  horses, 
sights  with  which  they  are  not  familiar.  The  little 
humpback  cows  prance  skittishly  out  of  the  paths; 
but  the  great  buffaloes  stand  quite  still  ana  suuc  at 


Mr.  Sweet  Potatoes. 


us,  then  throw  up  their  noses  and  sniff  the  air  in  an 
offended  manner  that  in  turn  makes  us  afraid  of  them. 

At  night  they  are  all  brought  home  from  their  wan- 
derings, and  the  ropes  by  which  they  are  led  are  tied 


THE  WATER-BUFFALO. 


to  stakes  driven  into  the  ground  ;  in  winter  under  a 
shed,  but  in  summer  in  the  open  air.  It  makes  one's 
neck  ache  to  see  them  ;  for  the  rope  is  frequently  tied 
so  short  that  they  cannot  hold  their  heads  erect  nor 
move  them  very  freely,  but  they  do  not  appear  to  suffer. 


Mr.  Sweet  Potatoes. 


Next  to  his  business  the  milkman  values  his  daugh- 
ter, who,  when  I  first  saw  her,  was  a  plump,  rosy- 
cheeked  child  and  tended  her  father's  cows.  If  you 
ever  saw  a  doll  with  a  plaster  head  that  had  been 
broken  and  then  had  been  mended  by  having  a  strip 
of  black  silk  glued  over  the  crack,  you  will  know 
how  Mr.  Sweet  Potatoes'  daughter  looked. 

She  wore  a  piece  of  black  crape  bound  tightly 
about  her  head  so  that  no  one  could  see  her  hair. 
Some  persons  said  that,  owing  to  illness,  she  had  no 
hair.  If  so  it  must  have  grown  afterwards;  for, 
when  she  was  older  and  had  left  tending  the  cows, 
she  had  it  put  up  on  her  head  with  pins,  in  a  strange 
fashion  that  showed  she  was  going  to  be  married. 

Sweet  Potatoes  had  no  son  and  he  wished  his  son. 
in-law  to  come  and  live  with  him  as  if  he  belonged 
to  him.  Among  the  Chinese  this  is  not  considered 
so  honorable  or  so  genteel,  as  to  have  the  daughter 
leave  her  home  and  go  and  live  with  her  husband's 
family.  It  seemed  strange  that  the  son-in-law  should 
consent ;  for  though  he  was  very  poor  he  was  also 
very  proud,  and  was  very  particular  to  have  respect 
shown  to  him  and  in  regard  to  the  kinds  of  work  that 
he  was  willing  to  do.  I  should  never  have  guessed 
his  foolish  reason  for  being  so  proud,  but  some  one 
told  me  that  it  was  because  his  father,  now  dead,  had 
once  held  a  small  office  in  the  Custom  House  1 


SHETLAND  WOMEN. 


NOT  far  outside  the  town  of  Lerwick,  on  the 
Shetland  Islands  there  is  a  great,  black, 
muddy  tract  of  land  called  a  peat-bog.  All  about  is 
utter  desolation.  There  are  no  huts  even  to  be  seen. 
The  town  is  concealed  by  a  rounded  hill ;  and  when, 
through  some  opening  between  the  bare  upheavals, 
one  catches  a  sight  of  the  North  Sea,  it,  too,  seems 
deserted  by  mankind. 

The  peat,  or  mixture  of  roots  and  peculiar  black 
soil,  is  dug  here  in  large  quantities  ;  and  all  about  the 
place  are  great  piles  of  it,  dried  and  ready  to  be 
burned  in  the  fire-places  of  the  Lerwick  people. 
Peat  takes  the  place  of  wood;  and  in  every  poor 
man's  hut  in  Shetland  will  it  be  found  burning 
brightly,  and  giving  out  a  thin  blue  smoke. 


Shetland  Women. 


To  prepare  peat  for  market,  a  great  deal  of  laboi 
is  performed.  First  come  the  diggers  —  men,  women 
and  children.  Entering  upon  the  deep,  miry  bogs 
they  cut  the  soil  up  into  cakes  about  a  foot  long 
and  a  few  inches  thick.;  and  these  they  place  in  high 
piles  to  dry.  After  a  few  weeks  they  come  again, 
and  carry  the  cured  fuel  away  to  the  town. 

It  is  while  carrying  these  loads  that  the  Shet- 
landers  present  a  peculiar  spectacle.  The  men  are 
often  very  old,  infirm  and  poorly  clothed ;  and  the 
women  are  dressed  in  short-skirted,  home-spun 
gowns,  below  which  may  be  seen  very  red  and  very 
broad  feet.  On  their  heads  they  usually  have 
white  caps,  nicely  ironed,  with  a  fluted  ruffle  around 
the  edge.  Passing  across  the  breast  and  over  either 
shoulder  are  two  strong  straps,  and  these  support 
an  immense  basket  hanging  against  the  back. 

Thus  equipped,  the  brave,  stout  women,  their  bas- 
kets piled  with  peat,  tramp  off  to  Lerwick,  two  miles 
away,  to  sell  their  loads  for  a  few  pennies  each. 
They  make  many  trips  a  day,  always  smiling,  chat- 
ting and  apparently  contented.  Often  a  long  line 
may  be  seen  carefully  stepping  along  over  the  rough 
roads,  stopping  now  and  then  to  rest. 

The  homes  of  these  poor  peat  women  are,  many 
of  them,  simply  hovels.    When  they  wish  to  build  a 


Shetland  Women. 


home,  they  go  out  into  some  fields,  usually  far  away 
from  other  huts,  and  there  they  dig  a  trench  about  a 


SHETLAND  WOMEN. 


square  piece  of  ground.  Upon  this  they  build  walls 
to  a  height  of  about  eight  feet,  and  fill  the  crevices 
with  mud  and  bog.    For  a  roof  they  gather  refuse 


Shetland  Women. 


sea-wood,  and,  with  this  for  a  support,  lay  on  layer 
after  layer  of  straw,  mud  and  stones. 

But  what  homes  they  seem  to  us!  There  is  no 
fire-place,  only  a  hole  in  the  ground,  with  a  hole  in 
the  roof  for  the  smoke  to  escape  through  !  No  win- 
dows, the  door  serving  for  both  light  and  entrance  ! 
No  beds,  only  heaps  of  straw !  Sometimes  in  one 
small  room,  often  the  only  one  the  house  contains, 
will  be  seen  man,  wife,  children,  dog  and  hens,  equsjl 
occupants,  sharing  the  same  rude  comforts.  Outside 
the  house,  if  the  owner  be  moderately  well  off,  may 
be  seen  a  herd  of  sheep  or  ponies,  and  a  patch  of 
garden  surrounded  by  a  wall. 

But  there  is  something  a  peat  woman  of  Shetland  is 
continually  doing  that  we  have  not  yet  noticed.  All 
have  no  doubt  heard  of  Shetland  hosiery  ;  of  the  fine, 
warm  shawls  and  hoods,  and  delicate  veils  that  come 
from  these  far  northern  islands.  Now,  all  the  while  the 
poor,  bare-legged  woman  is  carrying  her  heavy  bur- 
den of  peat,  her  hands  are  never  idle.  She  is  knit- 
ting, knitting  away  as  fast  as  her  nimble  fingers  will 
allow.  In  her  pocket  is  the  ball  of  yarn,  and  as  her 
needles  fly  back  and  forth,  she  weaves  fabrics  of  such 
fineness  that  the  Royal  ladies  of  England  wear  them ; 
and  no  traveller  visits  the  island  without  loading  his 


Shetland  Women. 


trunk  with  shawls,  mittens,  stockings,  and  other  fem- 
inine fancies. 

Not  to  know  how  to  knit  in  Shetland  is  like  not 
knowing  how  to  read  at  home.  A  little  girl  is  taught 
the  art  before  she  can  read  \  and,  as  a  result,  at  every 
cottage  will  be  found  the  spinning-wheel  and  the  nee- 
dles, while  the  feminine  hands  are  never  idle.  It  is 
one  great  means  of  support ;  and  on  Regent  Street 
in  London  will  be  seen  windows  full  of  soft,  white 
goods  marked  "  Shetland  Hosiery." 

Who  first  instructed  these  far  northern  people  in  this 
delicate  art  is  not  surely  known.  On  Fair  Isle,  one  of 
the  Shetland  group,  the  art  is  first  said  to  have  been 
discovered,  very  many  years  ago.  On  that  lonely  isle 
even  now,  every  woman,  girl  and  child  knits  while 
working  at  any  of  her  various  duties. 

The  yarn  with  which  the  Shetland  goods  are  made 
is  spun  from  the  wool  of  the  sheep  we  see  roaming 
about  the  fields.  In  almost  every  cottage  may  be 
seen  the  veritable  old-fashioned  wheel ;  and  the  busy 
girl  at  the  treadle  sends  the  great  wheel  flying,  and 
spins  out  the  long  skeins,  which  serve  to  make  baby 
pretty  hood  or  grandma  a  warm  shawl. 


MARDI  GRAS  IN  NICE. 


HAVE  you   ever  happened  in  Nice  at  Carni- 
val? 

On  a  bright  June  morning,  which  my  calendar 
called  February  twelfth,  Rull  and  I  tripped  lightly 
down  through  the  old  olive  orchards  to  the  station, 
and  billeted  ourselves  for  Nice. 

Long  before  we  reached  Nice  RulPs  hands  tin- 
gled; for  there  lay  a  beautiful  line  of  snow,  miles 
away,  on  the  north  side  of  the  Alps,  and  the  poor 
fellow  hadn't  been  as  near  a  snow-ball  as  that  for  the 
winter.  But  I  had  only  to  say  "confetti!"  and  his 
eyes  danced  at  the  vision  of  the  parti-colored  hail- 
storm to  come. 


Mardi  Gras  In  Nice. 


Now  hasten  with  us  at  once  to  the  Promenade  du 
Cours,  up  and  down  which  the  procession  is  to 
pass. 

First,  however,  I  shall  buy  for  you  each  a  little 
blue  gauze  mask  ;  for  you  cannot  even  peep  at  Car- 
nival unmasked.  And  if  any  of  you  can  wear  linen 
dusters  with  hoods  attached,  all  the  better.  Don't 


"promenade  du  cours,"  in  carnival  time. 


leave  a  square  inch  of  skin  unprotected,  I  warn  you. 

Besides  the  little  masks,  you  may  buy,  each  of  you,  a 
whole  bushel  of  these  "sugar-plums,"  and  have  them 
sent  to  our  balcony.  Also  for  each  a  little  tin  scoop 
fastened  on  a  flexible  handle,  which  you  are  to  fill 
with  confetti  but  on  no  account  to  pull  —  at  least,  not 
yet, 

9 


Mardi*  Gras  In  Nice. 


The  crowds  are  gathering.  Pretty  peasant  girls  in 
their  holiday  attire  of  bright  petticoats,  laced 
bodices,  and  white  frilled  caps ;  stray  dominoes  \ 
richly  dressed  ladies  with  mask  in  hand ;  carriages 
so  decorated  with  flowers  as  to  be  artistically  hidden 
—  even  the  wheels  covered  with  batiste  —  blue,  pink, 
purple,  green  or  buff.    Even  the  sidewalk,  as  we 


 —  -  ~  '  ^5 

"  PROMENADE  DU  COURS  "  IN  CARNIVAL  TIME. 

pass,  is  fringed  with  chairs  at  a  franc  each. 

The  "  Cours  "  is  gay  with  suspended  banners,  bright 
with  festooned  balconies  and  merry  faces.  Side- 
walks and  street  are  filled  with  people ;  but  the 
horses  have  the  right  of  way,  and  the  people  are 
fined  if  they  are  run  over. 

Let  us  hasten  to  our  balcony,  for  here  passes  a 


Mardi  Gras  In  Nice. 


band  of  musicians,  in  scarlet  and  gold,  to  open  the 
procession. 

Just  in  time  we  take  our  seats,  and  lo !  before  us 
rolls  a  huge  car. 

It  is  "the  theatre"  —  an  open  car  of  puppets  — 
but  the  puppets  are  men  ;  all  attached  to  cords  held 
in  the  hand  of  the  giant,  who  sits  in  imposing  state 


above  them  on  the  top  of  the  car  which  is  on  a 
level  with  the  third  story  balconies. 

The  giant  lifts  his  hand  and  the  puppets  whirl  and 
jump.  But  alas !  his  head  is  too  high.  His  hat  is 
swept  off  by  the  hanging  festoons,  and  the  giant  must 
ride  bare-headed,  in  danger  of  sunstroke. 

Next  behind  the  car  moves  in  military  order  a 


Mardi  Gras  In  Nice. 


regiment  of  mounted  grasshoppers.  Their  sleek,  shin- 
ing bodies  of  green  satin,  their  gauzy  wings  and 
antenna,  snub  noses  and  big  eyes,  are  all  absolutely 
perfect  to  the  eye  ;  but  — they  are  of  the  size  of  men. 

You  lower  your  mask  to  see  more  clearly,  you  are 
lost  in  wonder  at  the  perfect  illusion,  your  mouth  is 
wide  open  with  "Ohs!"  and  "Ahs!"  when  pop  I 


"  PROMENADE  DU  COURS "  IN  CARNIVAL  TIME. 


pop  t  slings  a  shower  of  confetti,  and  the  little  hail- 
stones seem  to  cut  off  your  ears  and  rush  sifting 
down  your  neck. 

For,  while  you  were  watching  the  grasshoppers,  a 
low  open  carriage,  concealed  under  a  pink  and  white 
cover,  has  stopped  under  our  windows.  Four  merry 
masqueraders,  cloaked  and  hooded  in  hue  to  match, 


Mardi  Gras  In  Nice. 


have  a  bushel  of  confetti  between  them,  and  are  piled 
with  nosegays.  We  slink  behind  our  masks,  we  pull 
the  handles  of  our  confetti  scoops  —  then  the  battle 
begins  and  waxes  fierce. 

But  they  are  crowded  on  ;  for  behind  them,  in  irre- 
sistible stateliness,  moves  on  the  Sun  and  Moon. 
Then  come  the  Seasons :    Winter  represented  by  a 


"  PROMENADE  DU  COURS,"  IN  CARNIVAL  TIME. 


band  of  Russians,  fur-covered  from  top  to  toe,  drag- 
ging a  Siberian  sledge.  Summer  is  recognized  by  a 
car-load  of  choicest  flowers,  whose  fragrance  reaches 
us  as  they  pass. 

Here  rolls  a  huge  wine  cask  which  fills  half  the 
wide  street ;  there  moves  a  pine  cone,  six  feet  high, 
to  the  eye  perfectly  like  the  cones,  six  inches  in  length, 


Mardi  Gras  In  Nice. 


which  we  use  daily  to  light  our  olive-wood  fire. 

Then  a  procession  of  giant  tulips  —  stalk,  calyx, 
petals,  all  complete.    They  also  silently  move  on. 

Next  a  huge  pot,  with  a  cat  climbing  its  side,  her 
paw  just  thrust  beneath  the  lid.  Ha!  it  suddenly 
flies  off.  Does  the  cat  enter?  We  cannot  see 
through  the  crowd.    A  colossal  stump  follows,  trail- 


"promenade  du  cours,"  in  carnival  time. 


ing  with  mosses  and  vines.  Upon  it  a  bird's  nest 
filled  with  young,  their  mouths  wide  open  for  food ; 
wonderful,  because  the  artistic  skill  is  so  perfect  that, 
although  so  immense,  they  seem  living  and  not 
unnatural. 

Then  a  car  of  Arctic  bears  champing  to  and  fro 
in  the  heat,  poor  things,  as  well  they  may  ;  for  this  is 


Mardi  Gras  In  Nice. 


I  cloudless  sky  and  an  Italian  sun.  Look  carefully 
at  them  and  tell  me,  are  they  not  true  bears  ? 

But  ah  !  sling!  sling!  two  handfuls  of  confetti  sting 
your  eyes  back  into  place  again,  and  dash  the  bears 
out  of  sight.  Isn't  it  delightfully  unbearable  ?  You 
shout  at  the  folly  of  having  forgotten  confetti,  and 
then  resolve  to  watch  your  chance  at  the  next  poor 


"  PROMENADE  DU  COURS  99  IN  CARNIVAL  TIME. 


foot-pad. 

Here  passes  a  man  with  two  faces.  His  arms  are 
neatly  folded  before,  also  behind.  You  cannot  tell 
which  is  the  real  front,  until,  suddenly,  ahorse  trots  up 
and  nearly  touches  noses,  while  the  man  moves  on 
undisturbed.  You  meant  to  give  that  man  a  dash, 
but  you  forgot,  he  was  so  queer. 


Mardi  Gras  In  Nice, 


Ah  !  here  comes  a  carriage  of  pretty  girls.  Down 
pours  the  shot  from  the  balcony  above.  It  rains  on 
you  like  hail.  It  runs  in  rills  down  your  back.  You 
hold  your  recovered  ears,  and  add  your  tone  to  the 
rippling,  rippling  laughter  that  flows  on  in  silvery 
tide. 

Not  one  boisterous  shout,  not  one  impatient  excla- 


u  PROMENADE  DU  COURS  "  IN  CARNIVAL  TIME. 


mation  the  whole  livelong  day ;  only  everywhere  the 
sound  of  childish  glee.  How  good  to  see  even  old 
careworn  faces  lighted  up  with  mirth  ! 

Here  goes  an  ostrich  with  a  monkey  on  his  back 
then  a  man  with  a  whole  suit  of  clothes  neatly  fitted 
out  of  Journals. 

But  —  look  !  look  !  there  towers  a  huge  car.  Nay, 


Mardi  Gras  In  Nice. 

ft  is  a  basket  — a  vegetable  basket !  but  its  sides  are 
as  high  as  our  balcony.  On  its  corners  stand  white 
carrots  with  their  green  waving  tops  upward. 
Around  the  edges  are  piled  a  variety  of  garden  beau- 
ties. 

But,  wonderful  to  see,  in  the  centre  rises  a  mam- 
moth cabbage.  Its  large-veined  petals  are  as  perfect 
as  any  you  ever  saw  in  your  garden,  but  their  tips 
reach  above  the  third  balcony.  Upon  these  veined 
petals  climb  gorgeous  butterflies,  whose  wings  slowly 
shut  and  open  while  they  sip.  As  the  mammoth 
passes,  the  outer  petals  slowly  droop,  and  snails  are 
seen  clinging  within,  while  gayly-hued  butterflies 
creep  into  view. 

Now  the  carriages  mingle  gayly  in  the  procession. 
Here  is  one  with  young  lads,  their  faces  protected 
with  gauze  masks,  which  laughably  show  shut  red 
lips  without,  and  two  red  lines  of  lips  and  white  glitter- 
ing teeth  within.  The  battle  of  confetti  waxes  hot. 
Merry  faces  fill  all  balconies  and  windows.  Many  a 
beauty  drops  her  mask  for  an  instant  like  ourselves 
to  peer  more  eagerly  at  the  wonderful  procession,  but 
at  her  peril.  On  the  instant  dash  /  dash  /  flies  the 
confetti,  slung  with  force  enough  from  the  little  scoops 
to  sting  sharply. 

War  is  the  fiercest  yonder  where  there  is  such  a 


Mardi  Gras  In  Nice. 


handsome  family  ( Americans  we  are  sure ),  father, 
mother  and  daughter. 

Here  goes  a  carriage  decorated  with  United  States 
flags ;  all  its  occupants  cloaked  and  hooded  in  gray 
linen,  the  carriage  covered  likewise.  They  stop 
beneath  the  balcony,  and  sling  I  sling!  sling  I  in  wild- 
est combat  until  crowded  on. 

Up  and  down  the  procession  sweeps.  Up  one 
side  the  wide  "  Cours "  and  down  the  other ;  the  space 
within  filled  with  the  merry  surging  crowd,  under 
the  feet  of  the  horses  it  would  seem.  But  no  mat- 
ter. Horses  and  men  and  women  and  children  bear 
a  charmed  life  to-day. 

Now  and  then  a  policeman  pounces  on  the  boys, 
who  are  gathering  up  the  heaps  of  confetti  from  the 
dirt  to  sell  again ;  but  this  is  the  only  suggestion  of 
law  and  order  behind  the  gay  confusion. 

Here  rolls  a  carriage  trimmed  with  red  and  white. 
Within  are  a  pair  of  scarlet  dominoes,  who  peer  mys- 
teriously at  you. 

But  look  again  at  what  moves  on.  A  car  longer 
than  any  yet  seen. 

It  is  a  grotto.  Within  its  cool  recesses  bask 
immense  lizards.  Some  slowly  climb  its  sides,  then, 
in  search  of  prey,  thrust  out  their  long  tongues.  In 

•  v 


Mardi  Gras  In  Nice. 


shining  coat,  in  color,  in  movement,  you  would  avow 
them  to  be  lizards,  truly.    But  how  huge  ! 

Behind  the  lizards  pass  again  the  mounted  grass- 
hoppers, our  favorites  of  all,  for  their  wonderfully 
perfect  form  and  dainty  beauty.  And  lo !  they  bear, 
to  our  delight,  a  silken  banner,  token  of  the  prize. 

For,  pets,  do  you  read  between  the  lines  and 
understand  that  this  wonderful  procession  was  the 
result  of  truly  artistic  skill  ?  —  that  to  imitate  per- 
fectly to  the  eye,  to  represent  exactly  in  motion  all 
these  living  creatures,  and  yet  conceal  within  a  boy 
or  man  who  invisibly  moved  them,  required  all  the 
delicacy  of  perception  and  nicety  of  workmanship  of 
French  eyes  and  fingers  ?  Think  you  that  your  little 
fingers  and  bright  eyes  will  ever  attain  so  much. 

Besides,  all  this  was  also  a  great  outlay  of  thou- 
sands of  francs.  For  Nice  aroused  herself  to  excel 
in  Carnival,  and  offered  large  prizes  —  one  of  five 
thousand  francs,  another  of  four,  another  of  three  — 
for  the  most  perfect  representations. 

Nowhere  in  Italy  was  there  anything  to  compare 
with  Nice.  And  I  doubt  if  you  would  see  again  in 
Carnival  what  would  so  perfectly  delight  your  young 
eyes,  or  so  quicken  your  perception  of  artistic  skill. 

We  look  at  our  watches.  Two  hours  yet ;  but  we 
long  to  taste  the  fun  on  foot.    So  we  fling  our  last 


Mardi  Gras  In  Nice. 


confetti,  fill  hair  and  button-holes  and  hands  with 
our  sweet  nosegays  of  geranium,  sweet  aiyssum, 
mignonette  and  pansies  —  mementoes  of  the  fight, 
—  then  descend  to  the  sidewalk  to  press  our  way 
along  the  crowded  court. 

More  and  more  to  see !  and,  last  of  all,  Carnival 
tossed  and  tumbled  in  effigy  until  his  death  by 
drowning  or  burning. 

But  we  must  be  early  at  the  station.  Early, 
indeed  !  Peppered  and  pelted  all  the  way,  tweaked 
and  shot  at ;  but  ever  and  always  with  only  the  harm- 
less confetti  and  soft  nosegays. 

Sure  that  we  are  the  first  to  leave,  sure  that  no 
others  are  there  before  us,  we  pass  into  the  outer 
baggage-room.  Fifty  more  are  there  pressed  hard 
against  the  closed  door. 

The  crowd  swells ;  hundreds  are  behind  us ;  we 
can  scarcely  keep  our  feet.  Yet  what  a  good-natured 
crowd  !  The  hour  for  the  train  to  leave  passes.  By 
and  by  the  closed  door  opens  a  crack  ;  a  gilt-banded 
arm  is  thrust  through  and  one  person  taken  out,  and 
the  solemn  door  closed  again. 

So,  one  by  one,  we  ooze  through,  pass  the  turn- 
stile in  the  passage  under  surveillance  of  the  keen- 
eyed  officer,  and  are  admitted  into  the  saloon,  which 
is  also  locked. 


Mardi  Gras  In  Nice. 


We  sink  down  into  a  seat  nearest  the  one  of  two 
doors  which  instinct  tells  us  is  to  be  opened.  Again 
we  wait  an  hour  till  the  last  panting  victim  is  passed 
through  the  stile. 

Then,  O  !  it  is  not  our  door  which  unlocks  and 
opens  but  the  other.  We  rush  for  a  compartment ; 
•  but  no !  all  appear  rilled,  so  we  step  to  an  official 
and  state  our  case. 

He  conducts  us  on,  on,  nearly  to  the  end  of  the 
train,  over  stones  and  timbers ;  but,  at  last,  bestows 
us  out  of  that  crowd  in  a  compartment  with  but  three 
persons.  Soon  we  leave,  only  two  hours  later  than 
the  time  advertised. 

For  in  France,  little  pets,  the  trains  wait  for  the 
people.  The  people  are  locked  in  till  all  is  ready • 
then  follows  a  rush  like  a  grand  game  of  "puss, 
puss  in  the  corner !"  and  almost  always  there  is 
some  poor  puss  who  cannot  get  in. 

Guess  how  many  bushels  of  confetti  rattled  on  the 
floor  of  our  chamber  that  night  1 


ON  THE  FARM  IN  WINTER. 


HE  life  of  a  boy  in  winter  on  the  old-fashioned 


New  England  farm  seems  to  me  one  of  the 
best  of  the  right  kinds  of  life  for  a  healthy  lad,  pro- 
vided his  tastes  have  not  been  spoiled  by  wrong 
reading,  or  by  some  misleading  glimpse  of  a  city  by 
gas-light.  It  certainly  abounds  with  the  blood  and 
muscle-making  sports  for  which  the  city  physiologists 
so  anxiously  strive  to  substitute  rinks  and  gymna- 
siums. 

But  I  rather  pity  a  young  fellow  who  gets  his  only 
sleigh  rides  by  paying  a  dollar  an  hour  to  the  livery- 
stable,  and  who  must  do  his  skating  within  limits  on 
artificial  ice.  He  never  gets  even  a  taste  of  such 
primitive  fun  as  two  boys  I  know  had  last  winter. 
The  sleigh  was  at  the  wagon-maker's  shop  for  repairs 
when  the  first  heavy  snow  fell,  and  they  harnessed 


ON  THE  FARM  IN  WINTER. 

Dobbin  to  an  old  boat,  and  had  an  uproarious  ride  up 
hill  and  down  dale,  with  glorious  bumps  and  jolts. 

I  rather  pity  a  fellow,  too,  who  eats  grocer's  apples, 
and  confectioner's  nuts,  and  baker's  cream  cakes, 
who  never  knows  the  fun  of  going  down  cellar  to  the 
apple  bins  to  fill  his  pockets  for  school,  and  who 
owns  no  right  in  a  pile  of  butternuts  on  the  garret 
floor.  I  am  sorry  for  a  boy  that  knows  nothing  of 
the  manly  freedom  of  trowsers  tucked  in  boots,  hands 
and  feet  both  cased  in  home-knit  mittens  and  home- 
knit  socks  —  I  cannot  believe  his  blood  is  as  red,  or 
can  possibly  flow  so  deep  and  strong  in  his  side- 
walk sort  of  life,  as  the  young  fellows  who  chop 
wood  and  ply  the  snow-shovel,  and  turn  out  en  masse 
with  snow-ploughs  after  a  long  storm  — the  sound  of 
the  future  strength  of  the  land  is  in  the  sturdy  stamp 
of  their  snowy  boots  at  the  door  as  they  come  in 
from  their  hearty  work.  I  am  not  writing  of  country 
boys  that  want  to  be  clerks,  —  they  are  spoiled  for 
fun  anyhow,  —  but  of  the  boys  that  expect,  if  they 
expect  anything  in  particular,  to  stay  on  the  farm 
and  own  it  themselves  some  day. 

This  stinging  cold  morning  the  boys  at  the  school- 


ON  THE  FARM  IN  WINTER. 


house  door  are  not  discussing  the  play-bills  of  the 
Globe  or  the  Museum,  but  how  the  river  froze  last 
night,  turning  the  long  quiet  surface  to  blue-black 
ice,  as  smooth  as  a  looking-glass.  Now  what  skating ! 
what  grand  noonings,  what  glorious  evenings !  No 
rink  or  frog-pond,  where  one  no  sooner  gets  under 
headway  than  he  must  turn  about,  but  miles  and 
miles  of  curving  reaches  leading  him  forward  be- 
tween rustling  sedges,  till  he  sees  the  white  caps  of 
the  open  lake  dancing  before  him. 

Presently  the  snow  comes  and  puts  an  end  to  the 
sport ;  for  sweeping  miles  and  miles  of  ice  is  out  of 
the  question.  After  the  snow,  a  thaw;  and  then  the 
jolly  snow-balling.  There  is  not  enough  of  a  thaw 
to  take  the  snow  off;  only  enough  to  make  it  just 
sufficiently  sloppy  and  soft  for  the  freeze-up  that 
follows  to  give  it  a  crust  almost  as  hard  and  smooth 
as  the  ice  lately  covered  up. 

Then  such  coasting!  Just  think  of  dragging 
your  sled  of  a  moonlight  night  up  a  mile  of  easy 
tramping  to  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  whence  you 
come  down  again,  now  fast,  now  slow,  now  "  like  a 
streak  "  down  a  sharp  incline,  now  running  over  a 


ON  THE  FARM  IN  WINTER. 


even-rail  fence  buried  in  the  glittering  drifts,  and 
bringing  up  at  last  at  a  neighbor's  door,  or  at  the  back 
side  of  your  own  barnyard  ! 

It  is  great  fun,  too,  to  slide  on  the  drifts  with 
"  slews  "  or  "  jump-  ers."  These  are  made  sometimes 
of  one,  sometimes  of  two  barrel-staves,  and  are  sure 
to   give  you  many  a  jolly  bump  and  wintersault. 

There  is  fun  to  be  had  in  the  drifts  too,  digging 
caves  or  under-snow  houses,  wherein  you  may  build 
a  fire  without  the  least  danger.  Here  you  can  be 
Esquimaux,  and  your  whole  tribe  sally  forth  from  the 
igloe  and  attack  a  terrible  white  bear,  if  one  of  the 
party  will  kindly  consent  to  be  a  bear  for  awhile. 
You  can  make  him  white  enough  by  pelting  him  with 
snow,  and  he  will  bear  enough  before  he  is  finally  killed. 

There  is  fun,  too,  and  of  no  mean  order,  to  be  got 
out  of  the  regular  farm  duties.  Not  much,  per- 
haps, out  of  bringing  in  the  wood,  or  feeding  the 
pigs,  or  turning  the  fanning-mill ;  but  foddering 
the  sheep  and  calves,  which,  very  likely,  are  pets, 
takes  the  boys  to  the  hay-mow,  where  odors  of 
summer  linger  in  the  herds-grass,  and  the  daisy 
and  clover-tops  are  almost  as  green  and  white  and 


ON  THE  FARM  IN  WINTER. 

yellow  and  purple  as  when  they  fell  before  the  scythe. 

What  a  place  is  this  elastic  floor  for  a  "wrestle  or  a 
summersault!  "  and  then,  who  "daVt  "  climb  to  the 
big  beam,  into  the  neighborhood  of  the  empty  swallows 
nests  and  dusty  cobwebs,  and  take  the  flying  jump 
therefrom  to  the  mow  ?  Here,  too,  are  hens'  nests  to  be 
found,  with  frost-cracked  eggs  to  carry  in  rats,  and 
larger  prey,  also  to  be  hunted  when  the  hay  is  so 
nearly  spent  that  the  fork  sticks  into  the  loose  boards 
at  the  bottom  of  the  hay. 

But  of  all  things  which  the  farmer's  boy  is  wanted 
to  do,  and  wants  to  do,  there  is  nothing  such  clear  fun 
as  the  breaking  of  a  yoke  of  calves.  First,  the 
little  yoke  is  to  be  got  on  to  the  pair  somehow 
and  a  rope  made  fast  to  the  "  nigh  "  one's  head, 
that  is,  the  calf  on  the  left  side,  where  the  driver 
goes.  Then  comes  bawling  and  hauling  and  push- 
ing, and  often  too  much  beating,  until  the  little 
cattle  are  made  to  understand  that  "  Gee  "  means 
turn  to  the  right,  and  "  Haw "  means  turn  to 
the  left,  and  that  "  Whoa  "  means  stop,  and  "  Back" 
means,  of  them  all,  just  what  is  said. 

Every  command  is  roared  and  shouted ;  for  an 


UPON  THE  HAY-MOW. 


ON  THE  FARM  IN  WINTER. 

idea  seems  to  prevail  that  oxen,  big  and  little,  are 
deaf  as  adders,  and  can  never  be  made  to  hear  except 
at  the  top  of  the  voice.  In  a  still,  winter  day,  you 
may  hear  a  grown-up  ox-teamster  roaring  at  his 
patient  beasts  two  miles  away;  and  a  calf-breaker 
not  half  his  size  may  be  heard  more  than  half  as  far. 
Then,  on  some  frosty  Saturday,  when  the  little  nub- 
by-horned  fellows  have  learned  their  lessons,  they  are 
hitched  to  a  sled,  and  made  to  haul  light  loads,  a 
little  wood,  or  some  of  the  boys, —  the  driver  still 
holding  to  the  rope,  and  flourishing  his  whip  as  grand 
as  a  drum-major. 

Once  in  a  while  the  little  oxen  of  the  future  take 
matters  into  their  own  hoofs  and  make  a  strike  for 
freedom,  upsetting  the  sled  and  scattering  its  load, 
and  dragging  their  driver  headlong  through  the  snow. 

But  they  have  to  submit  at  last;  and  three  or  four 
years  hence,  you  would  never  think  from  their  solemn 
looks  and  sober  pace  that  they  ever  had  thought  of 
such  rebellious  freaks.  They  were  the  boy's  calves, 
but  father's  oxen. 

Halter-breaking  a  colt  is  almost  as  good  as  break- 
ing steers,  only  there  is  no  sled-riding  to  be  had  in  this. 


ON  THE  FARM  IN  WINTER. 


Till  lately,  the  young  fellow  has  had  the  freedom 
of  the  fields,  digging  in  the  first  snows  for  a  part 
of  his  living,  and  with  his  rough  life  has  grown  as 
shaggy-coated  as  a  Shetland  pony,  with  as  many 
burrs  stuck  in  his  short  foretop  as  it  will  hold ;  for 
if  there  is  an  overlooked  burdock  on  all  the  farm, 
every  one  of  the  horse  kind  running  at  large  will  find 
it,  and  each  get  more  than  his  share  of  burrs  mat- 
ted and  twisted  into  his  foretop  and  mane. 

Now,  he  is  waxed  and  driven  into  a  shed  or 
stable,  and  fooled  or  forced  to  put  his  head  into  a 
long,  stout,  rope  halter.  Then  he  is  got  into  the 
clear,  open  meadow,  and  his  first  lesson  begins. 
The  boys  all  lay  hold  of  the  rope  at  a  safe  distance 
from  the  astonished  pupil,  and  pull  steadily  upon 
him.  Just  now  he  would  rather  go  any  way  than 
straight  ahead,  and  holds  back  with  all  his  might, 
looking,  with  all  his  legs  braced  forward,  his  neck 
stretched  to  its  utmost,  and  his  head  on  a  line  with 
it,  like  a  stubborn  little  donkey  who  has  lost  some- 
thing in  ears,  but  nothing  in  willfulness,  and  gained 
a  little  in  tail.  At  last  he  yields  a  little  to  the  uncom- 
fortable strain,  and  takes  a  few  reluctant  steps  for- 


ON  THE  FARM   IN  WINTER. 

ward,  then  rears  and  plunges  and  throws  himself,  and 
is  drawn  struggling  headlong  through  the  snow,  until 
he  tires  of  such  rough  usage  and  flounders  to  his  feet. 

Then  he  repeats  his  bracing  tactics,  the  boys 
bracing  as  stoutly  against  him,  till  he  suddenly  gives 
way  and  they  go  tumbling  all  in  a  heap. 

If  the  boys  tire  out  before  the  colt  gives  up,  there 
are  other  days  coming,  and  sooner  or  later  he  sub- 
mits ;  and  in  part  compensation  for  not  having  his 
own  way,  he  has  a  warm  stall  in  the  barn,  and  eats 
from  a  manger,  just  like  a  big  horse,  and  is  petted 
and  fondled,  and  grows  to  be  great  friends  with  his 
young  masters  — at  last  to  be  "father's  horse/'  in- 
stead of  "  our  colt." 

But  by  and  by  the  long  winter  — this  play-day 
of  the  year  for  the  farm-boy  —  comes  to  an  end, 
to  make  way  for  spring  —  spring  which  brings  to 
him  work  out  of  all  reasonable  proportion  to  the 
amount  of  play,  at  least  so  the  farm-boy  is  likely  to 
think. 


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niLITARY  CAREER  OF  NAPOLEON  THE  GREAT. 

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THE  GERriAN=ENGLISH  BUSINESS  LETTER  WRITER. 

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THE  QUEEN'S  REIGN. 

By  Sir  Walter  Besant.   Price,  $2.50. 

THE  TEMPERANCE  COOK  BOOK. 

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GERMANY'S  IRON  CHANCELLOR. 

By  Bruno  Garlepp.  Translated  from  the  German  by  Sidney  Whitman,  F.  R.  G.  S., 
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THE  WERNER  UNIVERSAL  EDUCATOR. 

A  manual  of  self-instruction  in  all  branches  of  popular  education.  A  complete  cyclo- 
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STREET  TYPES  OF  GREAT  CITIES. 

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STEAM,  STEEL  AND  ELECTRICITY. 

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MANUAL  OF  USEFUL  INFORMATION. 

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SCENIC  AMERICA. 

Or  the  Beauties  of  the  Western  Hemisphere.  256  half-tone  pictures,  with  descriptions 
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PERSONAL  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  GENERAL  NELSON  A.  MILES. 

The  wonderful  career  of  a  self-made  man.  How  he  rose  from  a  Second  Lieutenant 
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THE  THEORY  AND  PRACTICE  OF  TEACHING. 

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of  the  Kansas  City  Schools,  assisted  by  Prof.  Cyrus  W.  Hodgin,  of  Earlham  College, 
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THE  TEACHER  IN  LITERATURE. 

Revised  edition,  is  a  publication  of  exceptional  merit,  containing  selections  from 
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HAGNER'S  STANDARD  HORSE  AND  STOCK  BOOK. 

A  complete  pictorial  encyclopedia  of  practical  reference  for  horse  and  stock  owners. 
By  D.  Magner,  author  of  the  Art  of  Taming  and  Training  Horses,  assisted  by  twelve 
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MARTIAL  RECITATIONS. 

Collected  by  Jas.  Henry  Brownlee.  A  timely  book.  Martial  recitations,  heroic, 
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PRACTICAL  LESSONS  IN  SCIENCE. 

By  Dr.  J.  T.  Scovell,  for  ten  years  Professor  of  Natural  Science  in  the  Indiana 
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WOMAN,  HER  HOME,  HEALTH  AND  BEAUTY. 

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PRACTICAL  LESSONS  IN  PSYCHOLOGY. 

By  Wm.  O.  Krohn,  Ph.  D.,  Professor  of  Psychology  and  Pedagogy  in  the  University 
of  Illinois.   Price  $1.50. 

KINGS  OF  THE  PLATFORM  AND  PULPIT. 

A  hundred  anecdotes  of  a  hundred  famous  men, —  our  eminent  orators,  wits  and 
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Artemus  Ward,  Henry  Ward  Beecher,  Josh  Billings,  John  B.  Gough,  Petroleum  V.  Nasby, 
Robert  J.  Burdette,  Dwight  I,.  Moody,  Robert  G.  Ingersoll,  Bill  Nye,  Robert  Collyer, 
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LITTLE  FOLKS'  LIBRARY. 

A  set  of  six  instructive  and  vastly  entertaining  midget  volumes,  written  expressly 
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RHYME  UPON  RHYME. 

Edited  by  Amelia  Hofer,  ex-president  Kindergarten  Department  of  National 
Educational  Association.   Illustrated  by  Harry  O.  ganders,  of  the  Chicago  Times  staff. 
LITTLE  FARriERS. 

By  W.  O.  Krohn,  Ph.  D.,  Professor  of  Psychology,  University  of  Illinois.  Illustrated 
by  Wm.  Ottman. 

CIRCUS  DAY. 

By  George  Ade,  special  writer  for  the  Chicago  Record.  Illustrated  by  John  T. 
McCutche  on. 

FAIRY  TALES. 

From  Shakespeare.  By  Fay  Adams  Britton,  Shakespearian  writer.  Illustrated  by 
Wm.  Ottman.  Vol.  I.  The  Tempest ;  Vol.  II.  The  Merchant  of  Venice.  A  Winter's  Tale. 
STORIES  FROM  HISTORY. 

By  John  Hazelden,  historian.  Illustrated  by  John  T.  McCutcheon,  of  the  Chicago 
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BEAUTIFUL  BRITAIN. 

The  scenery  and  splendors  of  the  United  Kingdom.  Royal  residences,  palaces, 
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A  VOYAGE  IN  THE  YACHT  SUNBEAM. 

<l  Our  home  on  the  Ocean  for  Eleven  Months."  By  I^ady  Brassey.  The  verdict  of 
the  public:  "One  of  the  most  delightful  and  popular  narratives  of  travel  ever  written. 
Both  entertaining  and  instructive."  For  old  and  young  alike.  Size,  6x9  inches;  480 
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MAGNER'S  STANDARD  HORSE  BOOK. 

By  D.  Magner.  The  well-known  authority  on  training,  educating,  taming  and 
treating  horses.  The  most  complete  work  of  the  kind  in  existence  ;  strongly  endorsed  by 
leading  horse  experts  everywhere.  Large  quarto  volume  ;  638  pages  ;  over  one  thousand 
illustrations.    Half  Russia  binding.    Price,  $2.50. 

THE  BIBLE  FOR  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 

In  words  of  easy  reading.  The  sweet  stories  of  God's  word.  In  the  language  of 
childhood.  By  the  gifted  author,  Josephine  Pollard.  Beautifully  illustrated  with 
nearly  two  hundred  fifty  striking  original  engravings  and  world-famous  masterpieces 
of  Sacred  Art,  and  with  magnificent  colored  plates.  The  Bible  For  Young  People  is 
complete  in  one  sumptuous,  massive,  nearly  square  octavo  volume,  of  over  five  hundred 
pages.   Bound  in  extra  cloth,  ink  and  gold  sides  and  back.    %  1.50. 

GLIMPSES  OF  THE  WORLD. 

Hundreds  of  full-page  views.  Portraying  scenes  all  over  the  world.  The  views 
composing  this  superb  volume  are  reproduced  by  the  perfected  half-tone  process  from 
photographs  collected  by  the  celebrated  traveler  and  lecturer,  John  I,.  Stoddard,  by 
whom  the  pictures  are  described  in  graphic  language.  In  Glimpses  of  the  World  is 
presented  a  grand  panorama  of  England,  Scotland,  and  Ireland,  France,  Germany, 
Russia,  Austria,  Turkey,  Italy,  Spain,  Asia,  Africa,  and  North  and  South  America.  Un- 
questionably the  finest  work  of  the  kind  ever  printed.   Buckram.   Price,  $4.50. 

THE  WERNER  POCKET  ATLAS  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES. 

A  real  pocket  atlas  5x3^  inches,  96  pages,  leatherette  covers.  Needed  by  every 
traveling  man.   Should  be  on  every  desk.   Price,  10  cents. 

THE  CAPITOL  COOK  BOOK. 

448  pages,  8^x6  inches ;  weight,  1%  pounds  ;  over  1,400  tested  recipes  by  Hugo  Zieman, 
ex-steward  of  the  White  House,  and  the  well-known  expert,  Mrs.  F.  I,.  Gillette. 
illustrated.   Price,  50  cents. 

THE  WALDORF  COOK  BOOK. 

By  "  Oscar  "  of  the  Waldorf.  The  most  thorough  and  complete  treatise  on  Practical 
Cookery  ever  published.  The  author,  Oscar  Tschirky,  Maitre  d'Hotel,  The  Waldorf  and 
Astoria,  is  acknowledged  to  be  one  of  the  foremost  culinary  authorities  of  the  world. 
Elaborate  directions  are  given  for  making  ice  creams,  ices,  pastries  and  tea  and  coffee. 
Selections  may  be  made  to  gratify  any  taste.  Original  and  varied  recipes  are  given  for 
making  toothsome  confections,  preserves,  jams,  pickles  and  other  condiments.  Over 
900  pages.  Valuable  information,  indispensable  to  families,  hotels,  cafes  and  boarding 
houses.  Wholesome,  palatable,  economic  and  systematic  cooking.  Everything  used  as 
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large  octavo  volume  of  over  900  pages  in  handsome  oil  cloth.   Price,  $2 #50. 

THE  STORY  OF  AMERICAN  HEROISM. 

As  told  by  the  Medal  Winners  and  Roll  of  Honor  men.  A  remarkable  collection  of 
thrilling,  historical  incidents  of  personal  adventures  during  and  after  the  great  Civil 
War.  Narratives  by  such  heroes  as  Gen.  L,ew  Wallace,  Gen.  O.  O.  Howard,  Gen. 
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and  events.  A  massive  volume  of  over  700  pages,  printed  on  fine  calendered  paper. 
Illustrated  with  three  hundred  original  drawings  of  personal  exploits.  English  cloth, 
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